The Maelstrom of Forever
by Jason Andrew
Summary: The Maelstrom of Forever, by Jason Andrew, follows the adventures of a boy named Dylan recovering from the death of his mother in modern day Seattle. An accidental meeting with the mythical Lost Boys throws him into a world of magic and wonder as he must locate Peter Pan's lost treasure to save his best friend Kevin from a magical disease known as the Taint.
1. The Problem With Pirates

**Chapter One: The Problems with Pirates**

Dylan Foley dreamed of being a pirate. When his father offered a chance to visit the costume store at the mall he knew exactly what he wanted to be for Halloween. _Vikings battled armored warriors with laser blasters from a time long ago and far, far away. Roswell Greys chased Elvis as she waddled around the corner. Red Riding Hood assisted the medium-sized werewolf slip into his claws. The tragically hip teenaged vampire with the wicked cowlick tickled the bouncy raccoon girl. The ancient blood-feud between the ninjas and the pirates raged unabated. _

He ignored the chaos in the aisles, concentrating only on his intended target. He dashed past the over-sized cowboy hats, the plaster shields, plastic swords, and the rainbow colored wigs. Dylan paused briefly only to puff out his chest and stoically salute a live-sized cardboard cutout of Ty Conrad, his favorite action hero. "Dad! We have to find the perfect costume. This is the last year I can go trick or treating."

Travis Foley lackadaisically trailed behind his son with his hands in his pockets, occasionally pausing to examine a severed hand or x-ray glasses. The crazy and colorful displays contrasted vividly against the dull grey walls of the store. "Dylan, you're only twelve. You still have years to be a kid. Enjoy the moment. You won't ever be a kid again. Believe me I know."

Dylan groaned. "Dad! You haven't been a kid in years." He shrugged his shoulders. "You just don't understand. Things have changed. Next year, I'll be old enough to go to parties. With girls!"

"Alas, when I was your age I raced dinosaurs and fought giant snakes in the snow. However will I understand the needs of the modern boy?" Travis winked mischievously forcing just a hint of a smile from his son. He continued at a slow pace, soaking in all of the garish color of the costume store. "We're going to the Haunted House party next weekend at work."

"That's not the same thing."

"Life's not just waiting for parties. It's a series of moments, each beautiful and special if you let it." Travis caught up to his son and ruffled Dylan's spiky brown hair. "Just don't get too old to spend time with the Old Man. I won't have anyone but the sparrows to tell my stories to."

"The sparrows?" Dylan eyed his father suspiciously. This sounded an awful lot like the beginning to one of his nonsensical tall tales. "You mean the birds on the deck?"

"You know that's why the sparrows used to nest near our windows in the old house right? They like hearing stories," Travis said, in a conspiratorial tone. He glanced side to side as though to make sure no one was listening to this important secret. "But don't tell anyone. Sparrows know everyone's business, but they hate it when people know they're listening."

Dylan snickered. "I thought it was Mom's birdfeeder." His laughter dropped dead. His ears turned pink and suddenly Dylan found the tips of his sneakers very interesting. "I'm sorry, Dad. I forgot."

Travis forced an uncomfortable smile. "It's OK to talk about her, Dylan. Every time we laugh, she hears it."

He nodded, acknowledging his words, but couldn't quite meet his father's eyes. Dylan desperately needed something, anything, to change the subject. Every smile and laugh felt like a betrayal after the funeral. Six month later, he just wanted to stop thinking about it. "I know, Dad."

A golden glitter caught his attention down the aisle. It was the perfect excuse. Dylan raced to his target, stopping at a large black flag with a white grinning skull and crossbones emblazed upon it. He hit the treasure lode of pirate gear; LED flashing eye-patches, fake gold teeth, ancient looking coins, plastic blunderbusses, and fierce cutlasses. Dylan flipped a daring cavalier hat with a blue feather onto his head, struck a heroic pose, and turned grinning to his father. "Dad, I have to be a pirate this year."

Travis frowned thoughtfully. "How about a cowboy?"

Dylan scoffed. He adjusted the hat and looked into a mirror. "No one wants to be a cowboy. I want to be a pirate. Kevin and I are gonna pretend we're going after treasure all night. You can be one too."

Travis pointed at a scaly green alien mask with bulbous eyes that glowed in the dark. "You can be aliens and pretend you're hiding from the government."

"Who wants to be aliens?" Dylan tried on the flashing eye patch and turned his gaze to the mirror. "Pirates are cool."

"Pirates are not cool!"

Dylan blinked and looked up at his father surprised at the harsh tone in his voice. He had never seen him look so old with a wrinkled forehead, flushed face, and scowling frown. Dylan meekly slipped off the hat and the eye-patch. "Dad?"

Travis sucked in his breath. "Dylan, pirates are murderers and lazy thieves."

Dylan folded his arms across his chest skeptically. _Was this a joke?_ "Dad! It's just pretend. I know that."

The blush of anger faded from his face, but the scowl remained. Travis spoke in calm, measured tones. "No son of mine is going to be a pirate."

Travis tried to hide his fear, but his eyes widened with dilated pupils. Dylan hadn't seen his father like this since the funeral. Confused, Dylan glanced around the aisle. "Dad? Is something wrong?"

Travis rubbed his temple as though fighting off a headache. "Sorry. Just feeling a bit tired. Can you pick something other than a pirate please? Anything?"

Dylan had daydreamed for weeks about Halloween with his best friend Kevin. They planned to start the night in costume, pretend to pillage the entire neighborhood, and then end the evening watching_ They Sailed By Night_ staring Ty Conrad. Why would this be any different than any other adventure that his father had previously encouraged? He began to open his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it. He knew his father felt horrible since they had to sell the house to pay off the medical bills. Were they still having money problems? "I guess."

He glanced over the selection of costumes, noting for the first time how expensive they were and how reluctant his father had been to come in the first place. "Hey, you know what? You have lots of Captain Splatterpunk stuff right? There should be a mask or two we can use, right?"

Travis nodded, grateful that Dylan was changing the subject. "The studio dropped off a bunch of promotional stuff at work. I don't think we can use them until we ship. I could get fired if any of it gets out before the marketing campaign hits full swing."

"Must be exciting to work on real video games."

"You'd be surprised. I did twenty different renderings for the tower level. Bit of a pain, really. The entire company is working extra hours getting ready for the drop."

Dylan grinned a bit, glad the mood was improving. "It must be horrible getting old."

"There are worse things than getting old, Dylan." His voice dripped with regret. "Just enjoy being a kid."

Dylan thought of his mother and nodded grimly. "I will. I promise."

Travis hugged his son. "I know you miss Mom. I do too."

"She was so fun during Halloween." He also knew that she would have let him dress like a pirate. "She loved decorating and giving out candy."

"I met her on Halloween, you know."

It never occurred to Dylan to consider a time when his parents didn't know each other. It barely seemed possible. Or so distant that it might as well have been the dawn of time. "You did?"

"She was working at a little place called the Pit Stop, putting herself through school. I was new in town and didn't have any family or friends. I was just walking around, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. And then I heard a horrible scream. I followed that scream and it was coming out of the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen."

Dylan tilted his head and remembered his mother's infamous temper fondly. "Why was she screaming?"

"It was on Halloween, remember? They were selling pumpkins. A couple of kids thought it would be funny to prank her by smashing a couple of the pumpkins." Travis chuckled, caught in the memory. "My first sight of your mother was her chasing these three boys, about your age, with an old broom."

It had never occurred to Dylan to ask how his parents met. "And then what happened?"

"I helped her chase them off."

"Really?"

Travis smiled wistfully. "Heh! The kids dropped the pumpkins; I slipped and fell on my backside. Your mother stopped to help me and slipped too. And then after we were done laughing, I helped her clean up."

Dylan laughed. "Mom always believed in standing up for yourself."

"We found out that we had a lot in common and went to lunch together. And that is as they say that."

The pair turned the corner and at the end of the row there were plastic throwing stars, foam nunchucks, and toy katanas. "If I can't be a pirate, how about a ninja?"

Travis smiled thoughtfully as though remembering a forgotten joke. He hugged his son. "We can pick up a pair of black sweats on the way home, but I'm not shaving my head." He ran his fingers through his brown, slightly thinning hair. "I'm afraid of losing what I have. You'll understand eventually."

He shrugged his shoulders and glanced up at his father. Looking at him was like looking into one of those distorted funhouse mirrors, Dylan thought. They shared the same face, the same high cheekbones, and the same dimpled chin. He grinned mischievously. "I'll never get old like you. I'm going to be a kid forever."

Travis bit his lip and turned towards the cash register. "We should hurry up so I can start on dinner. I promised Stephanie I'd drop you off around eight, already fed. Did you finish your history essay?"

"Yeah, Dad."

"Who did you pick?"

Dylan resisted the urge to groan. Since the funeral, there had been unspoken tension between them. His father wanted to fill the void left in their lives, which translated into severe interest in every aspect of his life. The fastest way out was to give details. "Benjamin Franklin. He was a cool inventor. And he's on the hundred dollar bill."

"Good. Homework is important. You need to keep up on it." Travis put his hand on Dylan's shoulder. "I'm very proud of you and the way you've been handling everything."

It didn't feel like he had handled anything since the funeral particularly well. His teachers treated him as though he was made of glass and any accident might shatter them. "Yeah, I know, Dad."

"I know things have been hard for us this year. I've been working non-stop. As soon as Captain Splatterpunk drops, I'll be working less and we'll spend some time together. I owe the Berons a lot. They helped us when we really needed it."

Dylan remembered Mrs. Beron taking care of the funeral arrangements and helping with the insurance. "Mrs. Beron brought me cupcakes with strawberries.

Travis grinned a bit at his son. "She's very pretty."

The boy scowled not quite ready to admit that he could have a crush on a girl. "Dad! She's old."

"I'm working hard to finish this game so I can pay them back the advance. We have to hang together or surely we'll hang separately. Franklin said that, you know."

Travis hugged his son and led him towards the register. Confused, Dylan followed without protest. Dinner was unusually quiet, without the usual story or laughing. Travis ate his spaghetti thoughtfully. There was an unspoken dark cloud over them that Dylan didn't quite understand. It had something to do with pirates and he was determined to find out why.

Stephanie smiled brightly when she answered the door and warmly hugged Dylan. Her blond hair smelled of vanilla and peaches. It was universally acknowledged by the other boys in school that she was the prettiest mother, usually at a fair distance from Kevin. "Dylan! I'm so glad that you are staying the night. Where is your dad?"

Dylan turned and gestured towards the street. Travis waved from on top of his ten-speed. He wore his flame colored helmet with tiny side mirrors and a red rain-resistant jacket. Travis nodded and then started to peddle. "He's late going into work, Mrs. Messer," Dylan explained. "He's had to stay really late the last couple of weeks."

She pouted her lips. Dylan hated disappointing Kevin's mother. She had been a big part of his life since the funeral. She occasionally brought food to the apartment and helped with chores. "My name is Stephanie. Mrs. Messer makes me sound old. You tell your dad to not be a stranger."

He thought of the night that Stephanie and Miriam took turns packing his mother's clothing and taking care of them. "I will. Promise."

Stephanie patted Dylan's back, released him, and then stepped back. "See if you can drag Kevin off the computer. I swear he's been doing nothing else for weeks. Maybe spending some time with you outside will improve his mood."

"We're going to the skate park tomorrow and then the movies."

Dylan slipped off his shoes and set them on his skate board. Stephanie forbid anything in her apartment that could stain her carpets. "I'm going to go see Kevin now, Mrs. Messer, err Stephanie."

Dylan made a quick exit to Kevin's room. Since the divorce, Mrs. Messer sometimes cried at random. Kevin didn't ever mention his father, except when Dylan noticed something new or expensive.

Kevin's bedroom smelled of sour milk and dirty socks. Dylan tip-toed around a sour smelling mound of dirty clothes and crusted-laden dishes. Pushing aside a broken remote control airplane, he plopped on the edge of the unmade bed. He pulled the blinds and opened the window. "Wow, you reek!"

A low dismissive grunt from behind the computer and desk was the only response. Dylan glanced at the massive _Kill and Kill Again_ movie poster hanging loosely by one tack and saluted his favorite movie star.

_Ty Conrad scowled at him through his mangy auburn goatee. A pile of bodies lay at his feet and an attractive raven haired woman in a tattered black dress clutched his muscular arms for protection._

"What would Ty Conrad do?"

Sniffing derisively, Dylan plucked a dirty sock from the bed, rolled it into a ball, and flung it at Kevin's head. The sock landed on top of his curly, blond mop of hair. "Gross!"

Dylan snickered. "This whole room is gross. I don't think even Ty Conrad could sleep here."

Kevin popped his head out from behind the monitor. His skin looked a bit pale and there were large bags under his eyes. "Ty Conrad could sleep here, but the bed would make itself."

Dylan kept his nose close to breeze from the window. The sound of the rain was soothing. "Ty Conrad might be immune to all toxins, but I'm not. We need to clean this mess."

"As soon as I'm done with this level."

Dylan flipped back on the bed and started looking through Kevin's comics. "I can't be a pirate for Halloween. It freaked out my Dad. He's been acting weird all week."

Kevin Messer grunted, wiped the dirty sock from his hair, but didn't turn from his monitor. "I don't see why he'd care about pirates. He took us to the Saturday Creature Feature with Vincent Price."

Dylan stood on the bed, keeping himself eye-level with Ty Conrad. "Yeah, he took us to see the Doctor Phibes movies. There were buckets of blood in that. And, he took us to _Kill'em All. _Twice!_"_

Kevin chuckled and continued furiously moving his mouse. "No kidding. Speaking of which, did you know Ty Conrad doesn't do push-ups? He pushes the earth down."

Dylan snorted and then hopped on the bed. "Did you know there is no theory of evolution? Just a list of creatures Ty Conrad allowed to live."

"Did you know Ty Conrad's tears can cure cancer? Too bad he never cries."

Dylan didn't reply; it was although all of the energy of the room had been sucked out like air leaking from a punctured balloon. He balled his fingers into a fist and kept jumping. More than anything else, he wanted to punch something as though the pain would remind him of the loss of his mother. How could he forget her so soon?

Kevin rotated the computer chair from the desk. His eyes were wide open. "I'm SO SORRY."

Dylan kept jumping, ignoring the comment. "When the Boogeyman goes to sleep, he checks the closet for Ty Conrad."

"Hey, did you know you have to kill the Boogieman in Level 3 of Captain Splatterpunk?"

"What?" Dylan leapt across the room and pulled Kevin from his computer. The monitor was filled with images of horrified faces encased in stone walls. In the forefront of the monitor a heavily gloved hand held a gigantic gun shooting lasers. The speakers let forth a dastardly laugh as an alien was splattered by the lasers. "That's Captain Splatterpunk! Where'd you get this?"

Kevin smiled uneasy. "I borrowed the CD from your Dad's laptop when I stayed over last weekend."

Dylan groaned, terrified of the answer. The consequences could be horrible for his father. He hated the thought of another financial setback just after they got their heads above water. "You didn't share this with anyone, did you?"

Kevin stood and shook his head innocently, trying not to show any shame. "Nah, I wouldn't do that."

Dylan angrily pushed Kevin back into his chair. "My dad could be fired just for you having this! Do you know what that would mean for us?"

Kevin held up his hands, pleading. "No one will know. I promise. Besides, there's plenty of spoilers out there already. I hear there's gonna be protests and everything."

Dylan closed his eyes and rubbed his temple. He felt a rage headache building and didn't want to take it out on his best friend. "It's been hard on him. Hospital bills, dealing with the funeral. Losing the house. He can't lose his job."

"I've been too busy playing to talk to anyone. Swear!"

Dylan relaxed a bit and then grinned. If Kevin was telling the truth, then he could return the disk without his father knowing it and then it wouldn't be a problem. "How is it? I haven't even gotten to play yet."

"I can't quit playing."

"That good, huh?"

"It gets in your head. I dreamed I was Captain Splatterpunk last night. Some of the colors and shapes burn into your brain."

"I can't wait to play!"

"Some of the levels are broken. Had to use god-mode to skip ahead," Kevin explained.

"Yeah, Dad's working with the testers all weekend," Dylan complained.

Kevin raised an eyebrow and then glanced around the room as though to check to see if someone was spying on them. "How's he going to know if you do go as a pirate?"

Dylan scoffed. "We're going to the work haunted house remember?"

"Sure, but then you're coming out with me remember? We can stash your pirate stuff here and then change."

Dylan's face turned a bit red. "I can't afford a new costume."

"I'll help you get what you need. I still need that set of fake teeth. We can skate over to the costume shop in the morning."

"I don't know. My dad was really against it."

"Well, do ya want to be a pirate, or not?"

The next morning, Dylan and Kevin slurped their bowls of _Ty Conrad's Chocolate O's_ cereal, grabbed their skateboards next to the door, and snuck out before Stephanie could inquire about their plans for the day. The sidewalks were slick from the rain the night before, but the air felt fresh and invigorating. Dylan felt free, dangerous. Like he could do anything in the world.

"Where are we going?"

"Keep up and you'll find out." Kevin hopped on his board, waved to his friend, and began skidding through the puddles.

The water splashed over Dylan. He wiped the wet hair from his eyes and ollied over the water. Kevin turned onto a street with a steep hill. He followed, tightly taking the corner, barely avoiding a wipeout. The board picked up speed as he past the crest of the hill and started to descend. His stomach tensed as though he were falling.

He swerved to avoid potholes and pebbles, determined to make the run last. Ahead, Kevin had stopped at the entrance to the park. Dylan skid to a stop and flipped his skateboard into his hand. "What's going on?"

Kevin gestured to the converted swimming pool now used as a skate park. "New kids. They're pretty good."

Curious, Dylan hopped over the cement barrier, walked across the grass, and sat down on the bench adjacent to the sunken cement park. The large boy with blue hair ollied over a small barrier, landed on a rail, and then ground his way across it. He wore a pair of worn overalls, a black sweatshirt, and a leather jacket. A long white scarf was wrapped around his neck. "Beat that, Pip!" he crowed.

In response, his short and skinny friend with green layered hair, performed the same trick but added a 360 spin to the end before landing. Pip skidded next to his friend and laughed. He wore an odd, worn leather vest and white t-shirt with goggles over his head. "Aces! Pure aces, Knox!"

Pip yanked Knox to the side. "Watch out for Spoken!"

A lanky kid with a tightly trimmed dark afro rolled down the ramp. He flipped forward, completing an entire rotation, and then skid down the rail. He grinned at his friends and dusted off his brown vest. He wore a ruffled white dress shirt, a bowler cap, and brown leather boots. "That was the Cat's Meow!"

They hopped over the cement barriers and joined the new boys. "That was cool!" Dylan said, holding his board.

The short skinny kid named Pip giggled. "It helps that we can fly."

"No fool'n people, Pip." Knox cuffed him in the back of the head and then glared so hard that his nostrils flared. "Not nice to make up stories!

"Heh! Heh! Don't fret!" Pip smiled widely. It was so animated that Dylan imaged the boy as a cartoon getting caught with his hand in the proverbial cookie jar. "Well, it feels like we're flying."

"I'm still learning." Dylan nodded enthusiastically. "That was some awesome foot work. You guys should turn pro."

Kevin took the initiative and shook their hands. "I'm Kevin, this is Dylan."

The tallest boy dressed in the fancy clothing accepted the handshake awkwardly. He introduced his friends. "I am called Spoken. This is Knox and Pip."

"Weird names. Were your parents hippies?" Kevin asked.

He adjusted his glasses and then glanced at his companions for a moment and then nodded. "The hippest. Speaking of which, we're looking for our friend. Heard of anyone named Trouble?"

Dylan bumped shoulders with Kevin. "Kevin's always in trouble. Half the time taking me with him. Does that count?"

"We're really worried about him." Pip swallowed nervously. "He's our best friend."

"Do you guys live around here?" Dylan understood how they felt. He imagined Kevin getting in trouble. "Do you know where he lives?"

Spoken paused for a moment as though trying to remember where he lived. "No. No. We're visiting for school."

"Our friend might be in trouble," Pip blurted.

"Trouble might be in trouble?" Dylan asked, amused.

"Aw, he can't help us," Knox said, worried. His face was turning red.

"Our gambit failed. We hoped that playing tricks would attract him," Spoken admitted.

Kevin rolled his eyes suspiciously. "Ah, they're just giving us the business. Screwing with us."

"Don't you guys smell it?" Pip sniffed. There was no joy in his voice. "The Taint?"

"Trouble's around here somewhere," Knox said nervously. "We really need to talk to him."

"Let us not forget that Trouble might himself be forgetful." Spoken stepped between his friends and Dylan. "We should wait for him."

"Look at Shakespeare here!" Kevin snickered.

Pip glanced over Spoken's shoulder as though he wanted to say something to Dylan. Knox sighed and nodded. Dylan ignored his friend. "Hey, if you guys need help, we'll help you put up flyers or something."

"We have to get to the costume store to get our pirate's flag." Kevin tugged on Dylan's arm. "We don't want to miss out on the good stuff."

Knox growled. "Why'd you want something gutter like that?"

"We're going to dress up like pirates for Halloween," Dylan said, uneasy.

"Why would ya want to be a cowardly pirate?" Pip asked, puffing up his chest.

"Pirates are cool!" Kevin scowled, clearly offended. "Ty Conrad was a pirate in _They Sailed By Night_."

Knox and Pip exchanged confused glances. "Who's Ty Conrad?"

"Just the baddest man on the planet." Kevin gestured to his black t-shirt. The scowling face of his favorite action hero seemed to glare at then. "Everyone's afraid of him."

"This man is a pirate?" Spoken asked, concerned. "We have certainly never heard of his existence."

"You've never heard of Ty Conrad?" Dylan asked.

They shook their heads. It seemed impossible with all of the billboards, commercials, and cereal boxes that someone wouldn't know who Ty Conrad was. "Have you guys been living under a rock? Or do your hippy parents never let you watch TV or see movies?" Kevin asked in disbelief.

The boys exchanged guilty glances. Spoken answered for them. "We're from up North."

"Oh, Canada!" Pip chimed in singing the national anthem.

"Why do you hate pirates so much? Dylan asked.

Pip ground his teeth. "They steal everything that's not nailed down. They drink and bully us."

"Bully you?" Dylan scratched his head. "Where do you live that you have to deal with pirates? Somalia?"

"Right. True right." Knox laughed awkwardly. Pip and Spoken followed suit. "Pip's just having a bit of fun. He's daft anyway. Pulling your leg, see?"

"We'll see ya around, we should hit the store, Dylan." Kevin was clearly not a fan of the new boys in the neighborhood. "See ya laters!"

Dylan wanted to make his friend happy, but there was something intriguing about these boys. "Yeah. Sorry guys. It's been a weird day for us. My Dad just told me I couldn't be a pirate for Halloween for no reason."

"He's a weird one." Kevin shrugged his shoulders. "Telling stories about birds listening to stories."

Spoken's eyes grew very wide. "What is your father's name?"

"Travis. Why?"

The disappointment was clear in their faces. "We were hoping that maybe he knew our friend Trouble. You kind of look like him."

"I'll ask him tonight," Dylan promised.

"We'll be around for a while, but we have to go back North soon."

"Been great meeting ya!" Kevin waved at them and started dragging Dylan towards the costume store. "Gotta go. Bye!"

The boys looked very disappointed, but quickly returned to skating. Dylan pulled Kevin's hand off his shirt. "What are you doing? We don't need to burn them."

"Look at the way they were dressed. Street kids. And they stink."

Dylan resisted the urge to comment about Kevin's bathing habits. "That's not like you. Why be mean?"

"We just need to go into the store first thing, before they get more employees," Kevin said as he crossed the street.

He followed Kevin into the Costume Shop. Something wasn't quite right. "What are you planning?"

"Nothing," Kevin promised.

Dylan tapped him on the shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Quiet, you dumbnut! Want to get us caught?"

He stepped back, surprised. "Kevin, this isn't like you. What's going on?"

"If we're gonna be pirates then let's act like pirates."

Kevin peeked around the aisle and glanced at the cash register and gave the all clear signal. _Would it really hurt anything if he took just one thing? Did life owe him a pass?_ The clerk was ringing up a set of troll masks. He whipped back and started stuffing pirate eye-patches, fake pirate gold, and a scar makeup kit into his pockets.

"Dylan!"

Two clerks tapped them on the shoulders. Dylan hadn't noticed them before. "Finally caught you!"

"I wasn't doing anything."

"Not yet, you little snot," the clerk said, gripping onto Dylan's shoulder.

Dylan twisted out of his grasp and kicked him the shin. "Run!"

The clerks chased them around the aisles while they tried to escape. A tall mean looking clerk from the register blocked the front door. "The back alley!" Dylan cried.

Dylan and Kevin hopped over a set of boxes, knocking down a display of a wizard selling wands. The clerks separated. One of them tackled Kevin. Dylan opened an employee's-only door and raced into the back of the store. He wormed his way through the boxes and darted out the backdoor setting off an emergency alarm. He looked around frantically in the small gated alley.

The clerk stopped at the door and laughed. "There's no way out."

Dylan ran to the end of the alley and started to climb.

He glanced over his shoulder at the advancing clerk. "I didn't do anything."

"You did if I say you did."

Dylan tried to climb faster, but the chain link fence cut into his fingers. Half way up the fence, he heard a scream. He turned to discover the clerk lying prone on the wet concrete floor. Dylan dropped down from the fence and crouched next to the clerk. There was a small, empty leather pouch upon the clerk's chest. "You OK?" Dylan asked in a hushed voice.

A voice above him answered. "He's copasetic. Just sleeping a bit."

Confused, Dylan looked up. Knox, Pip, and Spoken were hovering above the fence-line, grinning Cheshire-cat style. "We knew you were Trouble. You were just faking it because of the fellow with the Taint!"

"How are you flying?"

"You can fly too Trouble, you've just forgotten," Pip said.

"We'll help you remember," Knox added.

"We need your help, Trouble. Red-Handed Jack has returned," Spoken said, gently landing on the ground next to him.

"I'm not Trouble. I don't understand," Dylan protested.

There were footsteps and noise coming from the store. "No time to chat," Pip said, cheerfully.

"We'll explain on the way," Knox added.

"There's a problem on the Island. The pirates have come back. You're the only one that can help us," Spoken explained.

Knox and Spoken each looped one of their arms around Dylan and lifted him up. Dylan felt lightheaded and dizzy. His feet lifted from the ground. He felt himself pulled upwards.

He was flying.


	2. The Lost Boys

Chapter Two: The Lost Boys

Dylan ducked under the oncoming seagull. It squawked loudly, frantically flapping its wings to swerve away. Feathers flew in every direction. He shook his head to wipe away the mist and dirt from his face and spat out a foul-tasting feather. Pip buzzed over Dylan's head with a wild grin and a quick wave. "That's why you have to watch your mouth when you're flying!"

Knox and Spoken laughed. It wasn't a mean-spirited jab, but a joyous celebration of the moment. Dylan didn't share the feeling; he tightened his grip on their arms afraid that he would plummet to the ground at any moment. His eyes clinched shut, hoping that it would soon be over. It was then that he realized that his body felt almost weightless as though he were swimming at the deep end of a pool. His arms did not suffer the strain of his weight. "How's this possible? You can't just fly because you want to. That's impossible!"

The wind and the attitude distorted Spoken's voice. "We try to do six impossible things before breakfast."

The wind was shrill and bracing. Dylan shivered, trying to keep warm. The air felt light somehow. He took several extra breaths to make sure his lungs were filled with oxygen, but he noticed that the others seemed to be breathing normally. He opened his eyes and tried keep his breakfast where it belonged. "I don't feel too good."

Pip circled them with an unusual frown on his face. He hovered above Dylan and slipped off his goggles to examine him. "Fellas, he's turning a bit green around the gills."

Knox's eyes opened wide with concern and glanced down at Dylan realizing that he might not have been enjoying the flight as much as expected. "He's acting like it's his first time in the air. We should set him down, Spoken. Let him remember slowly."

They glided through white glimmering gossamer clouds. It felt like breaking through a spider web made of water. The cool water reinvigorated Dylan and he felt less like vomiting. "Let's land over there!" Pip suggested. "On that building that looks like a spinning top."

Knox smacked his lips and pointed down to a green patch of land. "And we can play in that park. Maybe grab some grub!"

Dylan's gaze followed Knox's gesture downward and instantly regretted it. The sprawling landscape of Seattle rotated slowly below him. The familiar floating disk tower of Space Needle seemed like a tiny saucer, slowly growing in diameter. "Don't drop me!"

"Don't fret. We've done this before."

"Done what?" Dylan asked.

"Have courage, Trouble!" They paused mid-air, allowing Dylan a few moments to adjust to the air. Spoken and Knox exchanged knowing glances over Dylan's head. "The chicanery's just beginning."

The rush of wind against his face faded. His stomach felt queasy like it might rise through his throat. The world below them grew rapidly. The Space Needle expanded from a small saucer to a giant menacing disk that threatened to collide with them. Dylan closed his eyes and screamed. The others joyfully joined him.

Dylan opened his eyes as they swooped past the Space Needle, circled the grey metal tripod base tower, and then floated over an amusement park past an enormous steel Ferris wheel. They swooped over a plastic log ride, dragging their toes along the brilliant sparkling blue water, splashing several kids waiting in line. Afterwards, they ducked under a giant wooden ship ride that swung back and forth much to the delight of squealing children riding inside of it.

"What is that?" Spoken asked, horrified. He pointed at a colossal building that seemed to have been made piecemeal out of dozens of broken metal pieces of a variety of colors and wielded together to form the vague shape of a guitar. "It hurts my eyes just gazing at it."

"That's the Experience Music Project. It's a music museum," Dylan explained. "How can you not know that?"

Pip laughed. "It looks like someone took a dog turd and painted it like it was an Easter egg."

Dylan found it difficult to argue the point. Knox pulled them towards the ground. "There's train tracks!"

"That's just the Monorail. Not a real train."

Knox frowned, clearly disappointed. "I've always wanted to see a real train."

Pip smirked and then flicked Spoken's ear. "Bet you can't catch me!"  
Dylan gasped and clutched closer to Spoken and Knox. "Don't worry about catching him! Worry about holding me!"

Pip flew through the spokes of the Ferris Wheel and then dashed towards the log ride. The boys followed, skimming their feet along the water and splashing a group of tourists. Pip dashed ahead and then swiped a large bag of popcorn almost half his size from a vendor kiosk. He flipped a large silver coin onto the vendor's head and flew away. They found him sitting on a bench munching on popcorn.

"They're flying! They're flying!"

Dylan was amazed that the only person that seemed to realize that they had been playing was a little boy with shaggy blond hair. His parents sat on a blanket under a large maple tree. The parents continued eating their sandwiches oblivious to the flying boys.

"Why didn't they see us? Why didn't people react? What's going on?"

Pip slipped off his goggles. "Dylan, it's copasetic. The P-Dust balls up most olders and they can't see us when we fly."

Knox gently set Dylan firmly upon the wet grass and then coasted over to Pip. He happily munched on the open bag of popcorn. "Have some!"

Knox dug both hands into the white kernels and scooped out a small pile. "That was aces, Pip!" he said and then crammed it into his mouth.

Dylan dropped to his knees, confused. Spoken landed next to him. "Do not fret! It will all return, Trouble."

"Why do you talk like that? What's going on? How did we just fly?"

Pip tilted his head, concerned. "The P-Dust should've joggled the noggin by now."

Spoken nodded, studying Dylan through his glasses. "I admit that it appears perplexing. Perhaps he-."

"Quit talking like I'm not here! I'm not Trouble!" Dylan finally felt well enough to stand unaided. His face flushed with frustration. "I don't know what you're talking about so there's no way I can remember. You have the wrong kid."

Pip held up the bag of popcorn meekly. "Eat something. You'll remember."

Dylan groaned. "I wish my Dad were here."

The Lost Boys gasped collectively. "You have parents? Olders that take care of you?" Pip asked.

Dylan nodded ruefully. "Well, I had a Mom. She died last year of cancer. She was a lawyer. My Dad works as a computer programmer."

"What's a computer?" Knox asked.

Dylan's screwed up his face in frustration as yet another question that should have been obvious was asked. "That's not important! Tell me what's going on? We flew! We actually flew in the air."

"Very well. What do you wish to know?" Spoken asked.

"How did we fly? People can't just fly whenever they want."

Pip grinned mischievously. "The Lost Boys can."

"With P-Dust," Knox added, between bites.

"The Lost Boys? You mean like Peter Pan?" Dylan asked.

At the mention of the name Peter Pan, all three of them turned solemn and placed their hands over their hearts. "He died saving us all from Red-Handed Jack ages ago. We thought he was gone forever, but he came back."

"Peter Pan dead? I thought he was immortal or something," Dylan said, awed.

"Immortal just means you can't age." Knox sniffed. He shook his head. "Everything that lives can die."

"But I've never heard of Red-Handed Jack."

Their eyes opened wide with surprise. Dylan suddenly understood how they must have felt when Wayne had mentioned Ty Conrad. "He's the most feared pirate that sails the Dream Sea."

"Is that where Neverland is?"

Spoken nodded. "In the realm of dreams, it is the soul of us all."

"Is that why you guys talk so funny? How old are you?"

All of them answered at once. "Twelve."

"Twelve? You guys talk like a teacher."

"We don't grow old. Unless we forget. And then we have to leave Neverland," Pip explained.

Dylan scratched his stomach, feeling a bit better. "And you're looking for your friend, Trouble, because Red-Handed Jack is back?"

"Trouble hid Pan's Treasure. He gave us a map before he left, but Jack stole it," Knox said.

Spoken sighed. "If a scoundrel like Red-Handed Jack finds Pan's Treasure, we'll all be balled up."

"And so you need to find Trouble to get the treasure first. Won't Jack be able to find it first?"

"Trouble was clever. Map's in code. Jack won't know where to look at first," Pip explained. "But he's devious. He'll figure it out."

"When was the last time you saw Trouble?" Dylan asked.

"Ages ago."

"There are no calendars in Neverland."

"Wish Wayne was here, we could google Seattle and see if anyone named Trouble lived around here." Dylan had a rush of guilt. "Hey! We left Wayne behind! He's going to get into a lot of trouble. We need to go back for him."

"There is no helping him." Spoken shook his head. "Your friend has the Taint. I fear that his heart has been corrupted."

"What Taint?" None of this made any sense. He felt in his pockets for the costume jewelry he had stolen. What would his Dad think of him now? His stomach burned as though he had bitten a battery in half and swallowed. "I don't know why I did that. I didn't need to be a pirate. What's going on?

None of them answered. Pip suddenly found his feet very interesting. Spoken suddenly felt the urge to clean his finger nails. Knox took another bite of popcorn. Pip eventually answered. "He's sick. Doesn't look like it now, but he'll get worse."

"I don't understand. How can you know that?"

"We can smell it." Knox shrugged his shoulders. "Like rotten oranges and sour milk. Sometimes a Lost Boy gets sick. We don't know why. They get angry for no reason. Steal. Hurt people."

"In the end, they go to the Maelstrom of Forever in the Dream Sea and return as a pirate."

Dylan swallowed. "What's that?"

"A place where the Dream Sea runs black. We've never been."

"Or we'd be pirates," Pip added.

"Did you bring the Taint with you? From Neverland?" Dylan asked.

They shook their heads. "Then how did Wayne get it?"

Spoken tapped his chin. "There must be a leak from the Maelstrom of Forever leading to here."

Knox shook his fist. "Red-Handed Jack must've done it!"

"What can we do?" Dylan asked.

"Pan's Treasure can help him. Helped Trouble, it did," Pip answered. "Cured him of the Taint, it did."

Dylan nodded. "Then, let's find it. Is there anyone you know that could maybe help us?"

Spoken looked at the other Lost Boys uneasily. "There's a wizard that used to trade with us. He's an ancient older named Remington Borri. Haven't seen him since the Great War. Perhaps he still dwells there. He was friends with Trouble. He lives on the piers."

"Are you sure that he's still around?" Dylan asked, suspicious.

"It's a place to start."

They coasted past the wharf to get a glorious view of the Puget Sound. The blue water horizon was punctuated by dozens of white sailboats. Dylan and the Lost Boys spotted the Seattle Aquarium and then slowly descended. "This wizard Borri lives at the Aquarium?"

Pip laughed and pointed to a wooden building on the pier adorned with vibrantly painted totem poles framing the entrance. Children and tourists entered and left the store with balloons, fudge, and tarantula paperweights. "He works in there!"

Dylan shook his head. "Ye Old Curiosity Shop? That's a joke shop. Shrunken heads and fake babies in a jar! I'll believe that when I see it."

Spoken coughed. "Seeing is not believing. Believing is seeing."

"My Dad and I go here all the time."

Dylan opened the door and ushered the rest of them into the store.

There were shrunken heads, gag gifts, crazy mugs, zombie bobble-headed dolls, and signs for the Seattle Ghost Tour. Pip pressed his face against the glass case containing the wax gypsy fortune-teller in and started searching his pockets for a coin small enough to fit the slots. Knox and Spoken sized up the decayed mummy, wondering if it might spring to life at any moment. The cashier eyed them suspiciously. Spoken raised his hand. "Excuse me, kind sir. We're lost and we're looking for Mr. Borri."

The cashier scoffed and gestured to a large metal door. "Mr. Borri is busy right now."

Dylan scratched his head trying to remember if that door had been there the last time he was here. "Is that new?"

The phone at the cash register rang. The cashier looked at it confused and then answered it. He listened for a few moments and then nodded. "Will do Boss!" The cashier reached under the counter, clicked a button, and then the metal door slowly opened.

Knox led them through the doorway and down a set of stairs into a concrete tunnel. "This is the real Olde Curiosity Shop."

At the end of the tunnel, there was an entirely different store. It reminded Dylan of a used bookstore with countless stacks and shelves arranged haphazardly. He tried to absorb it all, but every spare inch of room was crammed with artifacts of interest and various knickknacks from all over the world. They found everything from enchanted glasses, singing skulls, and dancing stone gargoyles. The shop had seemed rather small from the outside, but now that he was following Knox and the others through the labyrinth of the store it seemed larger than a school's football field.

Dylan was amazed by the strangeness of it all. He held up a bizarre curved crystal decanter that seemed to hum at his touch. "That is essence of knotweed and burdock. An excellent natural revenant repellant for a young boy. Good choice."

Dylan flinched with surprise. He did not see the thin, frail man with delicate features until he spoke. He looked younger than his Dad with curly black hair and large expressive brown eyes. "Mr. Spoken, Mr. Knox, and Mr. Pip. It has been twenty years since the Lost Boys have returned to this world. I had thought that you forgotten the way. And it seems that you have brought a new member of your esteemed club."

The Lost Boys each bowed to Remington Borri. "Sir, this is Dylan. He's not a Lost Boy. He's helping us," Knox said.

"Really? You don't normally recruit in these waters. Dylan? What is your last name?" Borri asked.

Dylan hadn't expected to be the center of attention. "Uh, Foley."

Borri's eyes narrowed. "Dylan Foley? You come into my shop with your father, don't you?"

Dylan suddenly understood why the Lost Boys were treating Mr. Borri with such respect. He innately seemed to know everything that happened in his establishment. "Uh, yeah. Yes, sir."

Spoken stepped forward. "Mr. Borri, we need your assistance locating Trouble."

Borri regarded each of them silently for a moment. Dylan felt like he was being weighed and measured. "You boys know that I can't reveal his location. I'm under a contractual geis. It simply can't be done."

Pip forced himself to look up at Mr. Borri. "Red-Handed Jack has returned from the Maelstrom of Forever. He has the map!"

Borri frowned a bit. His voice grew angry. "You lost the map to Pan's Treasure!"

The Lost Boys flinched. Knox closed his eyes and stepped in front of his friends as though to protect them from a monster. "He stole it from the Wendy Tree, honest."

"Nothing can be done about it now." Borri walked past Dylan and the Lost Boys and gestured them to follow him. "You will have to secure it again."

They followed him into an elaborately decorated office. Mr. Borri sat at his oversized oak desk and began searching through a drawer. "I shall be with you in just a moment."

The Lost Boys stood silently. Curious, Dylan glanced around the office looking at the various photographs. Some of them were very old. One of them was labeled Great Seattle Fire, 1889.

The photograph depicted several men searching through a burned out landscape. One of the men looked suspiciously like Mr. Borri. He studied Borri's face and then returned to the photograph.

"Yes, I am in that photograph, Mr. Foley," Mr. Borri said, without looking up from his drawer. Startled, Dylan looked away. "No, it is okay for you to look at my photographs. I have displayed them, after all."

"How can you be in that photograph? Wait, are you an immortal like the Lost Boys?" Dylan asked.

"There are many different paths to immortality, young man. Each with their own price."

"How old are you?" Dylan asked.

"That is a very long story, Mr. Foley. I don't believe that your new associates have the time just now," Mr. Borri replied. He opened a second drawer in the file cabinet next to his desk. "Here it is!"

He produced a cracked leather scroll and then unrolled it on top of the desk revealing a map unlike Dylan had ever seen. The ocean was a dazzling blue that swayed back and forth mimicking the currents. There were dozens of islands that seemed to explode with life and activity. A swirling black amorphous cloud blocked the center of the map.

"Is that the Treasure Map?" Dylan asked hopefully.

"Alas, it is not, Mr. Foley. It is a map of the Sea of One Thousand Islands." Borri tapped an island partially covered by the black cloud. "It will lead the Lost Boys to Mafdet, the Queen of Cats."

The Lost Boys gasped. "She's dangerous."

"Indeed, however she knew where Trouble was headed when he hid Pan's Treasure. You will have to find her," Borri stated.

"How do you know she knows where the treasure is? Will she help us?" Dylan asked.

"She will help the Lost Boys. Trouble saved her life from the mermaids and cat honor, such as it is, will require her to aid the Lost Boys in this cause." He tapped his fingers on the map indicating an island near the border of the black cloud. It was a barren island covered with strange ivory towers. "She is trapped on Bubastis Island. The Lost Boys will save her from the Bone Tower. You, Mr. Foley, will be returning to your father."

"I can't, Mr. Borri. My friend Wayne's sick," Dylan protested.

"He has the Taint, sir," Pip added.

"Then the rest of you must bring back the treasure to cure him," Borri insisted. "I think we all know what will happen if it is allowed to spread in this realm."

"Why do you care if I go?" Dylan asked, annoyed. "I need to help my friend get rid of the Taint."

Borri opened his mouth as though he were going to speak. His face flushed as though something caught in his wind pipe. "Do not bother me with foolish questions, boy!" He nodded to the Lost Boys. "When we are finished here, you will take him home to his father. Do you understand?"

The Lost Boys reluctantly nodded their agreement. Knox raised his hand. "Mr. Borri, we can't fly to Bubastis Island. There's too many storms. Not even Peter Pan would fly there."

"Indeed, Mr. Knox. That is why you are going to raise the Tempest."

Spoken raised his hand. "But, sir, we can't raise her. Trouble has the whistle."

Mr. Borri reached into the top drawer of his desk and produced a yellowed envelope addressed to Pippin. He gave it to the short, curly-haired Lost Boy and nodded. "I promised Trouble that I would deliver this should you come to my office."

Pip opened the envelope and grinned. He showed the others a small bone whistle. "This was Trouble's whistle. And he trusted me."

Mr. Borri coughed. "Yes, he did. As I am trusting all of you to follow my directions." Borri marked a location near the eastern most border of the map. It was a large foot-shaped island. It looked like it had once belonged to the mainland it hugged the shore so closely. "This is where Trouble scuttled her. You will raise her and claim her again for the Lost Boys."

Knox rubbed his hands together. "That's near the entry point to this realm from the Dreamlands!"

The island looked familiar to Dylan, but he wasn't as good with maps as his father. He peered closely, hoping to find a name for the island. "Where is this?"

"The name of the island in this realm is unimportant, especially to you, Mr. Foley," Mr. Borri answered sharply.

"How are we—I mean—how are they going to raise a ship in the sea?" Dylan asked.

"The Tempest belongs to the Lost Boys. It is a ship made of ancient trees. It will answer their call."

Pip gulped. "But what about the dream pirates?"

Borri raised an eyebrow. "You'll have to defeat them, of course."

The Lost Boys visibly shivered. Spoken steeled himself. "May we borrow that map?"

"Do I have the appearance of a librarian, Mr. Spoken?"

"Can we buy it? Or trade?" Dylan asked.

"Ten pounds of pixie dust after you have the Treasure," Borri stated.

"Ten pounds!"

"That would take ages to gather!" Pip complained.

Borri sniffed dryly. "My map is worth twice that."

Spoken extended his hand. "Your terms are acceptable, sir."

Borri shook Spoken's hand and then gestured to the map. "Take care that you do not rip that map. You would not appreciate the consequences."

The Lost Boys nodded. Dylan had a thought and raised his hand. "Mr. Borri, can you get a message to Trouble?"

Borri pondered that a moment. "I will try. Now, it would be best if the three of you escorted Mr. Foley back to his home. I shall know if you do otherwise."

They exited Mr. Borri's office silently, trudged up the stairs, and out of the shop. They waited until they were past the tourist crowd and sat down on a bench. Pip patted Dylan on the back. "Sorry you can't come with us, chum."

Dylan grinned. "Why not? We have the map now."

"Lie to Remington Borri?" Knox asked, horrified. "Do you know what he can do to us?"

Dylan shrugged his shoulder, pretending to be much braver than he felt. "My friends are in trouble. Both you guys and Wayne. Besides someone has to keep you grounded. Dad will understand. Eventually."

"So now what?" Knox asked.

"We raise the Tempest and then we fight some pirates."


	3. The Thin Spot Between Wor

**Chapter Three: The Thin Spot Between Worlds**

Dylan held up his hand to the Lost Boys and signaled them to be silent. They nodded solemnly and saluted. Pip pretended to zip his mouth shut. Spoken cleaned his glasses and then hunched close to watch. He seemed quite fascinated by Dylan's copper key as though it were a marvelous treasure.

He turned to the apartment door, slowly placed his key into the lock and gently turned it. He carefully turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. Dylan flinched and sucked in his breath as the door creaked. He listened carefully for noise and then crept inside.

"Why are we sneaking about?" Pip asked, forgetting to whisper.

Dylan hushed him. Knox snatched Pip's ear and tugged him close. "Pip! We're making sure no one's here!"

Dylan groaned and ushered them inside. "We're clear guys. Dad must not have found out."

"Your friend surely would have reported your involvement," Spoken replied. The arrogance in his voice grated on Dylan. "He can't help it. The Taint will force him to betray you."

Dylan ignored him. The Lost Boys didn't know Wayne. They weren't there when Wayne sat with him after the funeral. Or lived through the endless monotony of days where the only thing Dylan wanted to do was watch television or play video games. "I trust him."

He closed the door, turned the dead bolt, and then jammed one of the dining room chairs under the doorknob. "Dad's not all that easy to get a hold of at work. We should have enough time to get packed. If not, we'll have to sneak out the window in back."

"Will he be mad?" Pip asked, uncomfortable about the mere concept of an adult. "I mean Wayne did get in trouble."

"Dad's great. Almost my best friend. But, he wouldn't understand. Not about this." Dylan tried to imagine his father in a world of Lost Boys and pirates and shook his head. He loved stories, but the thought of Dylan risking his life for a friend would be too much for him. "And you said adults can't go to the island."

The Lost Boys ignored him and stared at the living room awed like it was a magical place. "This is a real home. A bona fide home! With furniture and dishes!"

Dylan smiled wryly, a bit embarrassed at the number of stacked boxes, empty pizza cartons, and pile of laundry. "Tomorrow is clean up day."

"Clean up what?" Pip asked.

Dylan laughed. He imagined that cleaning wasn't quite the priority in the Dreamlands. "Take a seat. It'll just take me a minute or two to grab some clothes."

"What shall we do?" Spoken asked, studying a magazine.

Rooting around in the kitchen, Dylan pondered what he should take. Would he be allowed to bring food across to the Dreamlands? Where would they get water? "You could watch a movie."

"A movie?" Spoken asked, curious. "Sounds bona fide."

"That might be too much for now." Dylan suspected that it would be a good idea to keep the Lost Boys occupied, but a movie might over stimulate them. He searched the living room for something that might occupy the Lost Boys and found himself drawn to the bookshelf. He searched through the books piled on the shelves, but didn't find what he was looking for. He lifted one of the card board boxes onto the kitchen table, opened it, and dug through the books and produced a small blue book. "I figured you guys might want to read Peter Pan."

"You have a book about Peter Pan?" Pip asked, his eyes the size of dinner plates.

Dylan waved the book in front of them. "Mom used to read it to me when I was sick. If you guys sit on the couch, I'll let you read it." The Lost Boys raced across the room, scrambling over each other, and finally landed on the couch. "This book belonged to my Mom. Be careful with it. I think it's older than I am."

They nodded solemnly. Mother was a sacred word to them. "What are you going to do?"

He handed the worn edition of Peter Pan to Spoken. "I need to pack for the trip, but I'll just be in the other room."

"Why?" Pip asked.

"So I have a change of clothing. Food."

Pip shrugged his shoulders. "The Dreamlands always provide what we need."

"We're not going to the Island. Not right away. And we'll need food."

Spoken looked up from reading Peter Pan. "We've always hunted and fished."

"Dream animals? Dream fish? Or do the animals crossover somehow?" Dylan remembered some sort of myth about going into the underworld and eating the food. "I won't be trapped there if I eat the food?"

Knox scratched his chin. "Never gave it much thought, I suppose."

"Don't fret, Dylan," Spoken said, knowingly. "Trouble was able to leave the Dreamlands for good. You should be able to do the same."

"And how are we going to fight off the pirates?"

"Well, they can't fly, can they? Knox grinned and held up his fists. He threw a couple quick punches in the air. "I just sneak up behind them and clobber'em."

"Peter Pan had a sword in the book. Don't you guys have swords or daggers?" Dylan asked. The Lost Boys suddenly were so interested in the book that they couldn't look at Dylan. Knox's face had turned crimson. "What aren't you telling me?"

Knox scratched his head. His ears were almost crimson. "There ain't been pirates in ages."

"There's been no need for keeping up our guard," Spoken admitted. "None of us can even remember the last time we had to fight."

"We lost the weapons."

"So where did the pirates come from?" Dylan asked. "If there haven't been any pirates for ages and none of you have become pirates, they had to come from somewhere right?"

The Lost Boys exchanged glances and then shrugged their shoulders. Pirates were simply part of their world and it had never occurred to them to question it. "I'll see what I can find in my closet. If you need anything, I'll be in the other room."

Pip raised his hand. Dylan groaned. "What?"

"Who is Barrie? His name sounds quite familiar." Pip bit his lip as though he were deep in thought. "I remember a play. And lights. A special treat. My happiest memory from before. My only memory from before."

Dylan didn't have an answer for them so he left them to read Peter Pan and went to his room. It had never occurred to Dylan to think about what he might need to pack for adventure, but he imagined that he would need several pairs of socks and clean pairs of underwear. For a moment, he considered packing his mother's blanket, but then realized a sleeping bag would be more useful. He crammed several items of clothing into his backpack and then opened his closet. Fingering through his clothing, Dylan spotted a thick jacket with green and white stripes and then slipped it over his head, hoping that it would keep him warm in the sky.

If they were going to fight pirates, they needed weapons and Dylan was certain that they couldn't go to the mall and buy a couple of swords. And even if swords were available, Dylan didn't know how to use one. He did know how to swing a baseball bat and use a hockey stick and thankfully happened to have one of each. He scooped them into his arm and then returned to the living room to present them to the Lost Boys.

"What's that?" Pip asked.

Spoken scoffed derisively. "That looks like a thin cricket bat."

"That's a hockey stick, but close enough."

"We're going to play cricket?" Pip asked hopefully.

"We're going to raise the Tempest and find this treasure to help Wayne." Dylan groaned. "Don't you guys remember why you came looking for Trouble?"

The Lost Boys blushed. Spoken coughed, clearly embarrassed. "We lost ourselves in the story. Sometimes it's hard to remember real things."

Pip nodded. "We forget things that make us sad." He paused for a moment as though trying to find just the right words and stumbled. "There's too much joy. You can't fly with sorrow."

"That doesn't sound good. Wouldn't you forget everything that mattered?" Dylan asked. This sounded like a dangerous trap. "Wouldn't you keep having the same problems over and over?"

"Not sure. Can't remember," Pip admitted.

"I had a mother once. Sometimes, I think I remember her in my dreams," Knox admitted. He turned his head away from the others unconsciously, trying to remember. "She was always whistling."

Spoken nodded remembering. "She let you go to save you. I remember that metal ship sinking into ice and water. Trouble insisted that we save as many as we could."

Dylan gestured to a picture on the wall above the television. It was a family portrait. Dylan smiled wide posing with his parents. His father had a bit more hair, certainly more happy. His mother was healthy. His mother had long blond hair, twinkling blue eyes, and a large warm smile. They were standing on a grassy hill with his father next to a white stone lighthouse with a red accent trim on a sandy beach. "That's my mother. We were on vacation. That was before we knew she was sick."

"The lady is beautiful," Spoken whispered. "What is her name?"

"Where is she?" Knox asked eagerly. The Lost Boys were completely memorized by the photograph. It was as though she were an angel or a unicorn. Something so magical and rare that they had never thought they would encounter it. "Can we meet her?"

"We'll be good. Promise!" Pip added.

Dylan turned away from them. He felt his chest constrict and his heart beat angrily, but tried to calm himself. The Lost Boys couldn't help it. Like Pip said, they forgot things that made them sad. "Her name was Katherine. She died."

The Lost Boys exchanged glances, as though they were uncertain of the meaning of his words. He might as well have told them that the sun and the moon were dancing together in the sky. Thinking about it, Dylan decided that they might have understood that better. "Mothers can die?" Pip asked.

"I suppose every one dies eventually."

"Even us?" Pip asked.

"I know don't. You guys seem magical." Dylan shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know that the rules apply to you guys. I don't know that any rules apply to you."

Knox raised his hand to ask a question, but the turning of the doorknob cut him off. The door opened, but then was blocked by the chair Dylan had wedged against it. "Dylan Foley? Did you do this?"

"Dad!" Dylan said, uncomfortably. "Can't explain it, but I have to go help Wayne."

Impatiently banging on the door, Travis Foley shouted. "Dylan! Open this door right now. Stephanie called. I know what happened."

"Sorry, Dad." Dylan gestured towards his room to the Lost Boys. "Run to the back window!"

Knox ran down the hall into Dylan's room and then popped opened the window easily and then stepped aside. Pip and Spoken took flight and swooshed through the window. Dylan slipped on his backpack, tucked the bat under his belt, and then stepped through the window. As Pip and Spoken took his hands, there was a loud crash. "He broke through the door!"

"Dad! I love you, but I have to go save Wayne!" Dylan yelled. He stepped onto the window sill. "I know you won't understand. But I'll be back as soon as I can."

Knox wormed through the window and grabbed Dylan, following the others as Travis Foley burst into the bedroom. Travis looked out the window, and cried out to his son. "Dylan Mathew Foley! Don't go it's dangerous. I can help you."

Dylan turned towards the window as they gained altitude. His father was furiously waving at him and gesturing for him to return to the apartment. Dylan closed his eyes and let the Lost Boys lift him to the sky.

"Foley? Your name is Foley?" Pip asked horrified.

"Does it matter right now?" Dylan asked.

Pip swallowed. "I suppose not, but Foley's a pirate name."

They flew north, crossing the Puget Sound, and zigzagging up the coastline. The urban density of the city faded into the tall houses and schools of the suburbs and then gradually empty beaches, trees, and green fields. Dylan studied the Dream Map and tried to ignore the squawking of the seagulls chasing them. Some parts of the real world mirrored the map, but he had never heard of a place called Cube Land.

They crossed the water and landed on a beach covered with driftwood and white sand. Dylan stretched his arms and craned his neck. The salt air invigorated his hopes. "I have to learn how to fly." He sat down on the beach, scratching his head. This place felt familiar. He studied the shoreline and the grassy hills until he found the familiar mission style white stone lighthouse with the red trim. "This is where my family went on vacation! Vancouver Island, right? We took a ferry here last summer."

"You went on vacation to the Graveyard of Dreams?" Pip asked awed. "What courage you must have!"

Puzzled, Dylan craned his neck. A name like Graveyard of Dreams definitely caught his attention. He tried to imagine how this serene little beach could earn such a name. "What?"

"In the Dreamlands, we leave things better off undreamt in these waters," Spoken cleaned his glasses nervously. "We usually fly through it as fast as we can."

"Trouble's clever!" Pip clapped, excited to finally be making progress. "He left the Tempest among the other wrecks."

"This is the entry point to the Dreamlands?" Dylan asked. If there was anything magical about this place, he couldn't see it. "Why?

"I'm unfamiliar with the name of this island in your realm." Spoken adjusted his collar. The idea of not knowing something clearly made him very uncomfortable. "Or the history."

"We avoid this place, if we can. That's why we rarely visit this realm," Pip added.

The tide washed over the pebbles and sand. Dylan remembered his mother claiming that this island above all other places made her feel at peace. "Why? There's nothing dangerous here."

"This island is covered with restless spirits from the shipwrecks."

"This place is haunted?" Dylan asked, credulous. "I've been here with my family a bunch of times. Never saw anything weird."

Spoken wiped his glasses. "Perhaps not in this realm, I admit. But on the other side, it is quite dangerous. Trouble scuttled the Tempest there for a reason."

"What can ghosts do to us? They're immaterial, right?" Dylan asked, hopefully.

"The Restless don't want to pass on. They live in the memories." Knox unconsciously stared out into the sea. His cheeks turned red. "They spend their time working. Building and then destroying."

Pip's eyes widened and he whispered. "The Restless have form in the Dreamlands."

Knox nodded and pulled his collar to the side revealing a jagged scar on his shoulder. "One of them clawed me ages ago. Trouble got it fixed up right."

"We'll have to be careful. I don't think we can fight spirits and pirates," Dylan said, clearly worried. "Seems too much."

"They're bound by the land. They can't cross the Dream Sea," Pip said, smiling weakly.

"But the Tempest is in the water. We'll have to call it onto the land to fix it right?" Dylan asked.

"The Tempest is made with wood from the Island. When we wake her, she will remember her old shape." Spoken placed his glasses back on his face. "At least, that is the hope. It may have been too late."

Dylan's eyes opened wide. "What? I thought this was a sure thing?"

"The Tempest was scuttled ages ago. She might have forgotten that she was a ship. Anything could have happened to her under there!" Knox waved towards the water and Dylan understood the absurdity of trying to raise a ship, even a magical one, from the bottom of the ocean. "She has been living the dreams of others for who knows how long."

Dylan pulled the baseball bat from his belt and held it firmly. Discussing the difficulty of what they had to do somehow increased the tension. He decided it was best to just push through it. "How do we cross?"

"It is simple really. We must find the thin spot," Spoken explained. Spoken licked his finger and held it up into the air as though he were searching for the direction of the wind.

"What's a thin spot? How do we find it."

"A thin spot is a place where the barrier between the realms is weak," Spoken answered. He seemed to find what he was looking for as he took flight and stopped at the other end of the beach. "Very close now."

Dylan ran to catch-up to Spoken. Pip and Knox effortless flew over his head. The tall boy had landed in the far section of the white beach, near the shore and the giant boulders. "Here it is!"

"Dylan, don't fret," Pip said. "Crossing is easy if you know how."

Dylan shook his head. "I don't see anything."

The other ignored him and started searching for white stones and arranged them around Pip in a semi-circle. "How's this going to help us?"

"The circle is for you Dylan. So you can learn to see the thin spot," Pip explained while continuing his work. "Keep watch and you'll see."

"I don't see anything different."

Pip stepped into the semi-circle. His form broke into rigid lines and then began to fold. "Don't fret, it don't hurt any."

Dylan rushed towards Pip, but Knox gripped his shoulder and pulled him back. "Let him pass. You could hurt yourself."

Dylan felt his stomach ache watching his friend break and fold into smaller and smaller units. "That looks horrible."

"It's your noggin that's giving you the willies, Dylan," Spoken explained. "You've never been to the other side and so it can't understand what it's seeing."

Pip folded into nothing.

Dylan resisted the urge to puke. It was like watching a friend set fire to his hand and then smile. Every thought and instinct told him it was wrong. Knox grinned. "Everything is copacetic, Dylan. Pip is waiting for us."

"We're next, Dylan. Can you do it?" Knox asked.

"Dylan wasn't at all certain he was brave enough to step into the circle. Isn't there some other way?"

"There are many other ways; each with their own unique dangers. This is actually the safest passage," Spoken said.

"Unless you are a wizard."

"Or a dragon."

Dylan brushed the hair out of his eyes. "That's not helping."

"Don't you trust us, Dylan?" Knox asked.

He pondered about his trust in the Lost Boys? They were reckless, prone to making wild mistakes and forgetting the important things. And yet, they took him to the fly. "I trust you guys. I really do. Mom used to ask me if everyone else jumped off a bridge, would I?"

Knox laughed. "Dylan, we can fly. We'd take you with us."

Dylan shook his head. "That's not the point."

Spoken adjusted his glasses. "Indeed, you are correct. We must jump to the other side if we are to stop Red-Handed Jack and save your friend."

Dylan nodded and thought of his friend. Wayne wasn't brave or even the nicest guy, but he was always there for him. He clutched his baseball bat and stepped into the circle of stone.

The thin spot proved to be an apt name. It felt as though Dylan had pushed through a thin membrane of air. The horizon seemed to fold and crumbled. It was difficult for his eyes to adjust. He felt like he was trapped between two parallel trains speeding in the opposite direction.

"Dylan? Can you hear me?"

It was Pip. Dylan blinked, surprised he was still upright, even if he was on his knees. He dropped the bat and dug his fingers into the soft sand. "Did we cross? This doesn't look any different."

The beach looked the same, only the sky was dark like an eternal twilight. Pip extended a hand to Dylan and pulled him to his feet. "This place lies. It wants the Restless."

Dylan glanced down to the rising tide. He sensed a deep power in the dark waters. It might have been his imagination, but every clash of the tide sounded like a mob of whispers. "And that's the Dream Sea."

Pip nodded solemnly. "Every hope that ever existed is in there."

"Then why are you so afraid of it?"

"For every hope, there's fear."

A rush of wind caught Dylan off guard. He turned to see Knox and Spoken step through the thin spot. This time Dylan felt less sick. "My brain must be adjusting. That didn't seem so bad. And now, I can see a faint outline."

"You'll see it for now on," Knox said.

Spoken raised his hockey stick and pointed to the hill behind them. "Beware the Restless!"

The lighthouse didn't exist in the Dreamlands. It had been replaced with a sprawl of mausoleums built with white stones. The dead worked aimlessly, trying to rebuild a city long dead.

"Zombies!" Dylan cried. "Do they want our brains?"

Spoken scoffed. "Brains? Why would they want your brains?" He pondered that question a moment. "Mine, I could understand."

"Can they see us?" Dylan asked.

"At this distance, they'll just think we're scavengers. But as soon as we call for the Tempest, they'll know we're alive," Knox explained.

"Why would they attack us?"

Knox swallowed. "Hearts, I expect."

Pip shivered. "They want our hearts. To feel, even for just a moment or two."

Spoken brandished his hockey stick. "Remember that though they are sizeable in numbers, they are dim-witted and lethargic. They don't have souls. They're just echoes of life."

Dylan glanced back at the Dream Sea. "Right. How do we call the Tempest?"

Pip reached under his shirt for the bone whistle tied to a leather cord around his neck. "Trouble trained her to come to his whistle."

Knox stood between Pip and the white mausoleums steeling himself for a fight. He brandished the hockey stick and grinned. "You blow it. We'll keep them off you."

Dylan griped his bat and joined Knox. "Can't you guys just fly us and blow the whistle?"

Spoken shook his head. "The magic in the whistle only works on land. Besides, it's dangerous to fly here. The wind is unpredictable."

Pip put the whistle in his mouth and looked to his friends, as though to give them a chance to change their mind. He blew Trouble's whistle. Despite the cold and the fear, Dylan smiled. The sound was not that of a whistle, but of a playful summer's day, filled with joy and laughter. They immediately felt warmer and brave.

Movement stopped in the Restless city. They turned to the children on the beach. Thousands of cries bellowed at once.

_"I was to be married!"_

_"Where's my son?"_

_"I was on watch!"_

The Restless shambled towards them. At first, Dylan could only see a mass of rotted flesh and bone and tattered clothing. It was like watching a swarm of hideous slugs creep in unison towards them. As they moved closer, their individual shapes became distinct. Weeping faces twisted in pain called out to them.

Pip blew the whistle again. "How long will it take?" Dylan asked.

Knox kept his eyes on the Restless, determined. "We've never done it without Trouble."

"So you don't know if it will work?"

Pip blew the whistle again. The Restless paused for a moment and then continued their march towards them. The Lost Boys slowly backed towards the Dream Sea. The Restless pushed forward. Little of their humanity echoed in their forms. They reacted like animals, packs of dogs, waiting for their alpha to attack first. And then all at once, the Restless attacked. Their lips were deceased, hanging from their faces. Black, oozing eye sockets glared at them, hungry for the light.

Knox swung his hockey stick, pushing them off-balance. The Restless mobbed around them, moving as a giant amorphous blob. "We're running out of beach," Pip warned.

Slowly, the Restless circled them, flanking them on all sides. The Lost Boys stepped back onto the wet sand allowing the mystical waters of the Dream Sea to wash over their feet. The water was warm, soothing. Dylan wanted more than anything else to curl into a ball under a blanket and close his eyes.

"Do not succumb to slumber. Fight the tide!" Spoken yelled.

"When is the Tempest going to get here?" Dylan asked through a yawn.

Knox held his hockey stick like a staff and pushed back two of the Restless. "We might need to run!"

"If we take flight, we surrender the Tempest to the depths."

"Why isn't it coming?" Pip asked.

"Mayhap, it has forgotten having been at the bottom of the Dream Sea." Spoken swiped his stick at the mob. "Or she has fallen to the final sleep."

Dylan poked several hands and arms back from the mob with his bat. The Restless were slow, but unrelenting. With a bit of effort and using the bat, he could keep them from grappling him. If he stopped for just a moment, they would grab him. "You guys talk like its alive."

"She is more than alive. She's part of this world. And smart. Trouble trained her like a dog." Knox blocked another attack wave. He finished his thoughts punctuated by grunts and deep breaths. "She's loyal, but doesn't always understand things."

Dylan considered the implications. "When we had a dog, we called it by name."

"I can not believe that I have forgotten! Trouble did just that." Spoken laughed. It was an odd sound surrounded by the broken arms and hands of the Restless. Dylan wondered for a moment if Spoken had lost his mind. Spoken cupped his hands and yelled towards the Dream Sea. "Lady Tempest!"

Knox and Pip joined their friend. "Tempest!"

The Restless pushed them back into the water, but stopped where the waves crashed upon the stones and the sand. "They're afraid of the water!" Dylan cried.

Pip blew the whistle again. "Join us, Dylan!" Knox said. "Maybe she can't hear us!"

Dylan stepped back, fighting the urge to sleep. The water came to his thighs. "Tempest!"

And then they yelled together, a final cry in the darkness. "TEMPEST."

There was a distant boom of thunder. "Oh great! Dream rain," Dylan complained.

Pip cheered. "That's not thunder. It's a cannon. From the Tempest."

BOOM! A quick whistle zipped past them and exploded in the mass of the Restless. Ghastly arms, legs, and heads shattered and scattered across the sand. The impact caused Dylan to slip, almost dunking under the water. Knox helped him recover his footing. Pip pointed out into the water. "There she is!"

Knox and Spoken rose from the waves. Dylan dropped his bat and grabbed onto their hands and was pulled along with them. Pip flew ahead towards the light in the horizon. Just below him was the Tempest.

It was the most beautiful ship that Dylan had ever seen. The Tempest was a three-masted barque sailing ship made of dark ebony. There was a winking mermaid carved into the bow. She turned perpendicular to the shore, firing her side cannons onto the shore. "Who's firing the cannons?" Dylan yelled.

"The Tempest is a magic ship. It does as it wills." Spoken yelled between cannon blasts. "She's protecting us."

The cannon fire pummeled the beach, driving the Restless back to their forgotten city. Knox leaned close to Dylan and whispered. "Let's just hope that she hasn't gone loopy or we could be in for a bumpy ride."

The Lost Boys landed on the deck of the Tempest. Her sides were covered with wet barnacles and twitching seaweed. Spoken held up his thin hand. "Be weary of touching that which comes from the Dream Sea in these waters."

Dylan glanced about the deck, noting the various unkempt rigging and torn sails. "We can't sail this ship."

"Don't fret, Dylan!" Pip shivered and rubbed his hands. "She'll do the work for us when she fully wakes."

"She might be a magic ship, but she can't catch the wind without a better sail." Dylan groaned and pointed to the sails. "Look at that rope! It'll snap in a strong wind."

"We can fix her." Knox grinned widely. "She's awakening."

Dylan resisted the urge to pull his hair. Something about living in the Dreamlands seemed to discourage thinking ahead. "Where are we going to get supplies?"

"I believe there is a port not far from here." Spoken pulled out Borri's Map and noted the location of the Tempest. "It won't be quick or showy, but I think we can manage it."

Dylan's head spun thinking about the various possibilities of what they might need on their journey. How would they get food? Or water? Could you drink from the Dream Sea? "What about a crew? We might be able to recruit some at the port? Any older Lost Boys?"

Knox scowled. "There aren't any older Lost Boys."

"Didn't Peter Pan grow up?" Dylan asked.

"He lived ages ago. Hard to say," Pip admitted.

"What do you mean by ages ago? A hundred years. Two hundred?"

"I'm that old, Dylan," Spoken scoffed. "At least I am when I remember."

"And you haven't grown up?" Dylan asked.

Pip wiped his eyes. "Lost Boys can't stay in this world and grow up. It's against the rules."

Dylan didn't like the thought of being a kid forever. "So you can't ever grow up? Ever?"

"Didn't say can't. Just that it's against the rules. Most stay for ages and then return back to your world," Knox said.

"Most? So some stay then?" Dylan asked.

"Those would be the pirates," Spoken answered.

"The pirates used to be Lost Boys?" Dylan asked, horrified.

"They say that Red-Handed Jack himself was once a Lost Boy," Pip whispered fearfully.

Knox growled. "That's just a campfire story. No one's still around from back then."

Spoken lifted a finger into the air. "Except for the Queen of Cats, of course."

"Maybe we can ask her when we find her," Dylan suggested

Spoken adjusted the map flat so that the others could see. He pointed to a large crescent island near the red avatar of the Tempest. There were seven large hills on the island that were honeycombed with villages and buildings. The map legend named the island Semiramis. "Until then, are we agreed that we should try to make port then away from the Graveyard of Dreams?"

Dylan nodded reluctantly. "That seems like the smart thing to do, I guess. Do we know anything about Semirami?"

"Semiramis is the largest port known in the Dream Sea," Spoken answered. He pointed to the large crescent with the narrow entry point. "The outside section of the island is protected by the coral reefs of the Aycayíans to the south and east. No ships can go near there without sinking. You pass through the gates and this entire side is one large port."

"Is there anything dangerous there?"

Knot scratched his head. "Anything can happen on Semiramis. There's not much in the way of rules or laws."

Pip nodded nervously. "We'll have to watch for pirates. Anyone's allowed to berth there as long as they follow the rules. And there's not many that's dare to say no to Red-Handed Jack."

Dylan thought about it for a moment. "Maybe we should fly ahead and see if we can buy some rope. This is a beautiful ship, but without supplies, she's stuck here."

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

It was a warm, feminine voice. Dylan glanced about the deck. "Who said that?"

The wooden mermaid figurehead curved from the bow animated and then pulled herself to the ledge. She peeked at her new passengers and giggled. "It's been ages since I've been called beautiful."

Spoken bowed. "My apologies, I had forgotten to make introduction. Dylan Foley, this is the Lady Tempest, the heart of the ship."


	4. The Lady of the Tempest

Chapter Four: The Lady of the Tempest

The wooden mermaid figurehead pouted. The intensity of the human emotion expressed in hard ebony dumfounded him. She sniffed and her lower lip trembled. Was she going to cry? Dylan wondered if it was even possible. Her oval face seemed familiar and yet exotic. The nose wiggled, the eyebrows furrowed. Dylan tried to recall why this face seemed so comforting.

She gestured towards the mast. "My poor riggings are just ragged. Can you fix me?"

Dylan blinked and shook his head. "The ship is alive?"

Tempest put her hands on her hips. "Of course, I'm alive dummy. How else do you think I'd be able to navigate the Dream Sea?"

Spoken stepped in front of Dylan, a bit embarrassed. "With apologizes, Lady Tempest, Dylan is from the other world."

Dylan nodded dumbly. "I've never seen anything as awesome as you."

Tempest tilted her head. "Awesome? Awesome! I like that." She clapped her hands. "Master Spoken make a note of that in the ship's log that I am awesome."

Spoken saluted and then quickly began to search near the wheel for the log. Dylan hoped that it survived the time underwater. "Of course, Lady Tempest."

Tempest nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now where is Captain Trouble? He left me under those waves for ages."

"We know not, Lady Tempest," Spoken said, still searching.

Knox bowed clumsily. "We've lost him, Lady. And Red-Handed Jack's back, Miss."

Tempest shook her head and it seemed as though her checks darkened. Dylan didn't like the idea of an angry ship. "That will simply not do," she stated. The avatar shook her head. "We must find him at once."

"Any chance you have supplies in your hull?" Dylan asked. He felt silly interrupting Tempest, but they wouldn't be able sail anywhere if they didn't repair the ship. "We need supplies to fix you, uh, Lady Tempest. You took damage."

Tempest tapped her forehead as though trying to remember. "There was a battle. Cannons blazed! And then, Captain Trouble ordered me to the bottom of the Dream Sea."

He held up a strip of the sail to the ship's avatar. These sails would never catch enough wind. "Do you mind if we do a search?" Dylan asked. "We might find rope and replacement sails."

"I'd like that very much."

He flicked on his flashlight and then gestured to the hatch to the hold. Pip tried to open it, but it was stuck. Knox pushed ahead and with two powerful tugs opened it with a loud pop. A whiff of stale air washed over them.

The pale yellow light shined down the hold as Dylan lead them down the stairs. There were a number of broken crates, swords, rolling cannonballs, and other flotsam. The hull had taken water while it had been scuttled. There were strange bits of pulsing iridescent barnacles that looked like angry eyes.

The design of the ship was mostly like Dylan expecting from watching pirate movies. There was a galley, a hold, and a large crew quarters. They found six cannons with five brass plates stocked. Dylan lifted one of the cannons to the upright position with Knox and Pip. "Well, at least, we'll have plenty to defend ourselves with."

Knox gestured to a cabinet along the port hull. He pulled it open revealing the ships's store of swords, cutlasses, and flintlock pistols. Sadly, the flintlocks were waterlogged and the power turned into a thick soup that smelled of rotten eggs. "We're armed now."

Pip drew one of the short cutlasses and presented it en garde against Knox. The large boy crowed and drew another sword and swiped it at his friend. They clashed blades several times. Dylan flashed his light between them. "Stop that! We're trying to fix the ship."

Knox swung his blade cheerfully. "And now we can defend it."

"Knox! Pip! We can barely walk around in here. And it's dark. Wait until we know what's going on before cutting each other." Dylan resisted the urge to yell. When did he become the adult here? "We need to find materials. Big ships like this have them right?"

Spoken popped his head out from the galley, covering his nose. "There's nothing edible in the galley."

Dylan walked across the hold, his feet sloshing with every footstep. He took a whiff of the stench from the galley and then covered his mouth and nose, resisting the urge to gag. "That's nasty!"

"What will we eat?" Pip asked.

"I brought some food, but not much water. Hopefully, we'll make port relatively quick," Dylan answered. He tried to figure out how many day they could live on what he brought. Water would be the biggest problem. Why did he listen to the Lost Boys? "We'll have to ration it."

"Why did Trouble scuttle Tempest? He could have left her to us," Pip complained. He splashed around the mucky water. "We would have taken care of her."

Dylan suspected that was an exaggeration, but felt kind enough not to say it. "Maybe we can ask that when we find him."

"There's another level below this, Dylan," Spoken said, feeling along the floor for a hatch. "Don't fret. We should be able to open it."

"Wait!" Dylan stopped Spoken. "Don't open that!"

"Why?" Pip asked.

"That hatch is probably sealed. The pressure is keeping the water out." The Lost Boys stared blankly. "It might be keeping the water out. What's down there?"

"That's another level of the hold and where the oars are kept," Knox answered. It was clear he was enjoying actually knowing more about a subject that Spoken. "Lots of supplies down there."

Dylan smacked his head with the palm of his hand. "I bet that's where the rope is. A ship this size can't be at sea without more rope."

"So we're stuck?" Pip asked.

"We'll find out, but let's see what we can find."

Although they did not find rope or extra sails, they did find salable equipment, including lanterns, oil, and salt. There was a sealed barrel of foul tasting water, but it would do in an emergency. Dylan returned to the helm and the avatar. "We didn't find rope or sails, Lady Tempest."

Tempest pouted a moment. "I was afraid of that." Her nose twitched reminding Dylan of his mother. "I'll drag us to the port Master Dylan. You can be assured of that."

It was like a song that he couldn't help but sing. Every time he looked at her, he noticed the way Tempest tugged her hair, bit her lip when thinking, or held her hands on his lips. "We didn't search the upper deck yet," Dylan said. "There could be supplied there."

Pip gasped. "That's the Captain's cabin!"

Was there a taboo on entering the Captain's cabin? "Trouble could have left us information in there," Dylan pointed out. "We need to see what is there. And we need all of the supplies we can get. That water won't last forever."

Spoken reluctantly nodded. "I concur."

"We should check it out."

Tempest wagged her finger at them. "Stop right there. You scallywags aren't fit to step into the Captain's cabin." The Lost Boys froze in place. Pleased, Tempest stuck out her chin. "Only the Captain is allowed in there."

Dylan raised his hand. "Captain Trouble hasn't been around in ages. What if there's supplies we need in there?"

"Then, the supplies will stay in there until the Captain says otherwise." She folded her arms, absolute.

"What if the Captain doesn't come back?"

"There is ALWAYS a Captain!"

Pip tugged on Dylan's arm. "A ship like this has a temper."

"Especially one named Tempest," Spoken added. "Names have power here in the Dreamlands."

Dylan bowed to the avatar of the ship. "We're just passengers. You know what's best, Lady Tempest."

That seemed to mollify her. "Very well, we will speak of this at port."

"Lady Tempest, how will you get us there without sails?" Dylan asked. Was there something he didn't know about sailing in the Dream Sea? "We can't sail without repairs."

"With my oars, silly."

A dozen long oars popped out of the sides of the Tempest and began to row. The giant spoked wheel at the helm turned to the left and the Tempest slowly turned in the water. The sail fluttered wildly, drenched with water from the Dream Sea.

Tempest pointed at a large door on the upper deck. "Until we're there, there's lot of scrubbing and cleaning to do. My beauty doesn't come with out a cost, Gentlemen. There's brushes in the locker."

Pip sighed. "Do we have to scrub?"

Knox coughed. "We're very tired, Lady Tempest."

Tempest put her hands on her hips. "I've been at the bottom of the Dream Sea waiting for ages. Everything's a mess. And it's Captain Trouble's fault. You're lucky I'm even bothering for you."

Dylan elbowed Pip and Knox. "We'll help out, Lady Tempest."

Tempest nodded approvingly. "Good show, Master Dylan."

Dylan opened the locker and passed out brushes and buckets. They were wet, but Dylan figured at the least they could scrub away the grime. The Lost Boys lazily started scrubbing the desk. "At this rate, this will take forever," Dylan complained. He turned to the others angry. "Put your back into it. If we all work at it, we'll be done that much quicker!"

"We've never done this before," Knox whined. He started scrubbing faster.

Dylan filled his bucket with another load of dream water and poured it over the deck. "I've never swabbed the deck either, but I'm managing."

Spoken stopped mopping the upper deck and cleaned his glasses. "We've never had to complete chores before. Or if we have, we forgot."

Dylan stopped scrubbing. "You guys have never had to wash dishes? Clean your house?"

Spoken, Knox, and Pip glanced at each other with credulity. Pip's face turned sour. "No. That's brownie work."

"Brownies? Fairies? Like Tinkerbell, right?"

Pip licked his lips. "They bring milk in the mornings."

Knox rubbed his sizeable stomach. "And they make the best breads and soups."

"And what do you do for them?" Dylan asked.

Spoken raised a finger. "They harvest our dreams."

"I thought everything here was made from dreams."

"And indeed that is true. But, it's diluted. They can harness the dreams directly from us."

"It don't hurt any, I promise," Knox said. "You won't even notice the difference."

Dylan wasn't so certain. "I think I'd rather keep my dreams to myself thanks and do the dishes."

Lost in thought, Dylan returned to scrubbing the deck. Luminous dream barnacles had started to grow along the walls of the deck and it took quite a bit of effort to pry them off and then scrub it clean. The others weren't as thorough, but Dylan managed to keep them on track.

After a hour of hours, Dylan's hands and arm ached. The distant clash of thunder brought him out of his thoughts. Could it rain? The horizon had grown dark and the only light was from the lanterns. He stopped and wiped his brow. "Lady Tempest?"

Tempest peeked over the edge of the deck. "Yes, Master Dylan."

"I think we've managed a good bit for tonight. But it's getting late. If it's OK with you, I'd like to prepare some food and then try to figure out a good place to sleep. We can get started in the morning."

Tempest examined the work. "I'm impressed you got so much work out of them. Very good start. We should be at Semiramis by morning. I'll wake you then."

Pip groaned and dropped his brush into the bucket. "I thought we'd be doing this all night."

Spoken stretched and then cleaned his glasses. "I must admit that I've worked up quite an appetite."

Dylan scratched his head and was very glad that he remembered to bring supplies in his backpack. "We need a place to sleep."

"The hold still has water," Pip complained.

Dylan certainly didn't want to sleep down there in the water or on deck. "Lady Tempest?"

The wooden avatar returned to the deck. "Yes, Master Dylan?"

"The crew needs a place to sleep. We can't sleep below and it's getting dark and cold. Wouldn't Captain Trouble want us to sleep well tonight so we can repair you tomorrow."

"Captain Trouble always did his best for the crew," Tempest said, confident.

"Do you think he'd let us sleep in the Captain's cabin. Just for the night?" Dylan asked.

"Only the Captain can open that door. Captain Trouble's orders," Tempest insisted.

"What if Trouble's dead?" Dylan asked.

The Tempest wailed. "Captain Trouble's dead!"

Dylan held up both hands. "Wait! We don't know he's dead. He's missing. We're on a mission to save him. And my friend."

"A mission?"

Dylan had a thought. The Tempest was a living ship, but it was also limited. It could get trapped in contradictorily orders. Like an error in a computer program. A computer might seem smart, but it would make the same mistake over and over without learning. "Yes, we're going to find the map to the treasure and find out what happened to him."

"Why didn't you say so?"

Dylan shrugged embraced. "It didn't occur to me."

Pip bowed his head slightly. "Sorry, Lady Tempest. We forgot."

"And since we're on a mission, we need a leader," Dylan said, winking at the Lost Boys. They didn't seem to follow where he was going, but nodded. "We need a Captain."

Tempest folded her arms and nodded. "Can't run a ship without a captain that's for sure."

Spoken snapped his fingers. "And the answer is quite obvious."

He was very glad that Spoken at least was very quick. "How do we get a new captain?" Dylan asked.

"Well, Master Dylan, there's two ways. The first is to have a duel to the death between members of the crew that want to step up," Tempest explained.

Dylan swallowed and looked at the Lost Boys, hoping that none of them wanted to try that route.

Knox growled. "That's how pirates settle things."

"Quite right. We've civilized," Spoken agreed.

"So what's the alternative?"

"The ship and crew elects a captain," Tempest said.

Dylan rubbed his hands together. "Then, let's do that."

Tempest rang the ship's bell. "Hear ye, hear ye! Articles of Agreement call for the election of the Captain. Nominations!"

Dylan raised his hand. "Spoken should be Captain. He's the oldest and the smartest."

Surprised, Spoken blinked and cleaned his glasses. "I decline. I tried to be Captain once. It didn't agree with me."

"Someone has to take responsibility," Dylan said.

Tempest rang the ship's bell again. "The Tempest nominates Master Dylan."

Dylan swallowed. He imagined trying to keep the Lost Boys in line and shivered. "Me? I'm lost here. And I'm going to return to my Dad after we're done with the mission."

"And Captain Trouble can take over then," Tempest said.

"I don't know anything about this world."

"We get lost in the now. We forget that there'll be a tomorrow," Knox explained.

"Trouble was like that," Pip said, tearfully. "He looked after us."

Dylan hasn't considered being responsible for the others, but someone had to do it. "Sure, I guess. Until someone better comes along."

Tempest saluted her new captain. "What are your orders?"

It was important to start things off right. Dylan thought about it a moment. "Open the Captain's door. We're going to eat and sleep. Wake us in the morning. And if anything dangerous comes close."

"Aye, Captain."

The Captain's cabin door swung open boldly with a loud pop. Dylan ducked his head into the room expecting quite the mess, but was pleasantly surprised. The lanterns lit mystically and adjusted the light to a warm glow. It was a spacious room decorated with many kinds of fine drapery that had somehow managed to keep dry at the bottom of the Dream Sea. Ivory statues of mermaids, frightening tribal masks, and bejeweled shields lined the bulkheads. Sections of aft bulkhead had been replaced large strips of thick translucent glass. Wisps of glowing eyes passed by the porthole.

Spoken quickly flew to the bookshelves that lined the walls and started paging through a forgotten volumes that had only been dreamt and never written. "Trouble saved these from the Alexander Library on Churn before it was destroyed."

There was a mound of soft pillows in the middle of the room. Pip leapt onto top of them and rolled around like a dog. "I forgot how comfortable these could be."

It was the large display case that attracted Knox. He pressed his nose onto the glass awed by the forgotten treasures from long passed adventures. A bejeweled grinning skull, crimson knife carved into the shape of a heart, a cracked china cup, a shuriken, a golden pocket-watch in the shape of a tear, and an ornate pearl fan with kanji characters. "The Skull of Agony, a dagger of the Crimson Heart Brigade, Sorrow's Watch, and the Fan of the White Lady!"

At the end of the cabin was a large wooden desk. There were papers, scrolls, candles, and other odd bits scattered across the deck. "Everything's dry!" Pip said, very pleased. He seemed quite comfortable on the pillows."

"How's that possible?" Dylan asked.

"A spell?" Knox suggested.

Spoken started searching through the papers. "I don't know the language. Very curious. And look at the artwork."

Dylan peeked over Spoken's shoulder. There was a set of schematics that seemed very familiar with the strange alien arches. "I've seen those before. What is that building?"

Spoken studied the page closer. It was a castle made from a series of curved towers with lines and form unnatural to the human eyes. Black spires and looped bridged pocked the design. Thankfully, the hateful construction seemed incomplete as though human eyes could not comprehend the scope of the plans. "I've never seen it before. It makes my stomach feel a bit queer."

Something very uncomfortable about that sketch eluded his memory. "Then why have I?"

"We should show this to Mr. Borri."

"After we find Pan's Treasure," Dylan clarified. The idea of getting that man angry didn't suit him at all. He seemed proper and polite, but Dylan had no doubts that Mr. Borri was quite powerful and mean if felt wronged. "I don't want him to try to stop us."

Knox moaned and rubbed his stomach. "Didn't you say that you had food."

Dylan lifted his backpack and unzipped it. He had brought several sandwiches and a large bag of carrots. Knox sniffed the carrots and then took a bite of one. "I only brought two bottles of water. Can we drink from the Dream Sea, if things get bad?"

"It is usually better to find a spring from land," Spoken said. He took a bite of a carrot. "The brownies always provided."

"What about rain? Can we drink rain water?"

Spoken shrugged his shoulders. "I've never given it much thought."

"OK, we might be lucky." He remembered his Dad telling him that ancient sailors used to catch the rain with buckets or string plastic or cloth. "Pip and Knox, before we eat, can you empty out the buckets and leave them on the decks to collect water."

"Why?" Pip complained. Knox grunted his agreement. "We're hungry."

"Do you want to drink anything tomorrow?" Dylan asked credulously. "Do you want to drink that water Spoken found? Won't take but a minute or two. We might see rain tonight and it'd be better to set it up when it's dry."

Neither had an answer so they picked themselves off the floor and left Captain's cabin to work. Dylan turned to Spoken. "See if you can figure out how to translate those papers."

"Aye, Captain."

Spoken turned to the papers and held them close to the lantern. Dylan put his hand on his shoulder. "Go ahead and eat first. There's no rush on that."

They divided up the food and made certain that there would be enough food to last a couple of days. By the time that Pip and Knox returned, they had a delicious spread. They lounged on the pillows, eating sandwiches, and telling stories. Pip and Knox seemed quite intrigued by the concept of baseball.

Afterwards, Dylan searched through the drawers of the desk. He found a bone key, a small pouch filled with gold deplumes, and silver harmonica. "Hey, look at what I found."

Spoken took the harmonica and blew it. The notes were sour like milk left in the sun. "Trouble used to play that."

Pip stuck out his tongue. "Yeah, and a lot better."

"How come you guys always have so much gold?" Dylan asked.

Knox shrugged. "People dream a lot about gold."

"Can we trade with the gold?" Dylan asked, hopeful.

"Gold usually only has value to humans," Spoken answered.

Know swallowed a bit of his sandwich. "Won't be a lot of humans in Semiramis, I expect."

Dylan raised an eyebrow. "What do ya mean there won't be a lot of humans? What else would there be?"

Spoken coughed. "Aycayíans. There's a settlement off the island."

"Mermaids? Real mermaids?" Dylan asked.

"Plenty of different types of beasties. And plenty of tulpas of all types," Knox added.

"What's a tupla?" Dylan asked.

Pip shrugged his shoulder. "Some times dreams get smart. Start realizing things."

Spoken cut off Pip. "Some believe that tulpas are manifestation of belief."

Dylan scratched his head. "So if you believe stuff, it happens? Like magic?"

Spoken shook his head, disdainfully. "No! No! Faith. Tulpas come from faith. Born of the imagination."

Knox threw a pillow at Spoken. "Hey! He's still learning." He turned to Dylan. "They take on a life of their own."

Pip giggled nervously. "It's hard to understand them. They don't have noggins like we do."

"Then what do they have?"

The three of them all shrugged blankly to Dylan. "No one knows."

"So how do we deal with them?" Dylan asked, very confused.

"With a great deal of caution," Spoken said solemnly.

"So if we can't use gold, what can we use?" Dylan asked.

Pip pulled out a small wooden loop adorned with feathers, beads, and a net. "We mine our dream stuff."

"Is that a Dreamcatcher? I've seen those before," Dylan asked.

Pip smiled widely. "You put these under your pillow and come morning, you have the dross of dream stuff."

Dylan tilted his head, remembering a line from an old movie. "The stuff of dreams."

Spoken cleared his throat. "We are such stuff, as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep."

"Don't we need that? I mean is it bad to trade it?" Dylan asked.

"Dreams are meant to be shared."

Dylan really couldn't argue with that logic. "What does it look like? The dream stuff."

Pip scratched his neck. "Depends on the dream, I expect."

Dylan rubbed his chin. "Let's do that then. Get as much dream stuff as we can. I don't know how expensive tomorrow is going to get."

"We could take on cargo," Knox suggested.

"Cargo? What sort of cargo could we carry? Is there trade here?"

"Every island, every realm is quite unique. A snowflake in a series of infinite snowflakes." Spoken took another bite of a carrot. "The isle of Cups, Hats, and Hearts have the best tea. You can get tea elsewhere, but not quite the same. And so plenty of smugglers and traders sell their tea."

"Is the tea illegal?"

"Travel to the island is restricted by the Red Queen."

"We transported cargo for the Pip explained. "There aren't many ships that can travel through the dream storms. Not many ships like the Tempest around."

Dylan thought about it. They might have to travel to several different islands before they found the Queen of Cats or Trouble. Not to mention dealing with Red-Handed Jack. "I suppose we'll need plenty of supplies. Might be a good idea. You guys know who to contact?"

Knox nodded. "I used to go with Trouble when he scrounged around for cargo. Triton will have something that needs hauled."

Pip shook his head, feverishly. "Not Triton."

"Who's Triton?"

"Triton is a hunter of the Aycayíans. He is one of those that slips between the worlds," Spoken explained. "He can swim the tides in deep waters."

"But Triton can't be trusted. He was afraid of Trouble. He won't give two thoughts about gutting us," Pip said. He swallowed. "He's mean and scary."

Spoken didn't seem to have a strong opinion. "He does always keep his word."

"I suppose it can't hurt to check things out." Dylan patted Pip on the shoulder. "I'm sorry Pip, but we're running on empty here."

"Empty what?"

"Huh?"

"You said we were running on empty."

Dylan groaned. "It's an expression. Never mind. We should go to sleep. It sounds like Tempest is going to wake us early tomorrow."

"I'm not tired," Knox complained.

Pip yawned and then nodded. "Let's play a game."

"You guys made me the Captain. We need to sleep."

It took several minutes before they settled down to sleep. Now, he knew how his father felt during one of his sleepovers with Wayne. He tossed and turned wishing that he had brought his special blanket or a pillow. Dylan lay down upon the pillows, hoping that his father would understand.


End file.
